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Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except my OC
Rating: T

She walked deeper into the shaded woods. The moon wasn't completely full, but it shed enough light to see the path. The clouds from earlier had dissipated and the sky was clear. The stars twinkled in between the branches and leaves.

The wind brought voices as the path rounded a large rock formation, bright light illuminating the nearby trees and casting long, flickering shadows.

In front of the angeloid was a covered wagon, on which side stood four thug-like men with torches and swords, grouped around a slender, dark haired man. She stopped as the others noticed her presence.

The head of the gang let out a flirty, carnal whistle.

"Well, hello there, poppet!"

-o0o-

Bright. Warm. The rising morning sun was truly a sight to behold. The rays stretched over the rolling grasslands, making the dew drops glister like sprawled out diamonds.

The woman stretched her neck and shoulders. Muscle tension wasn't the nicest of feelings and the angeloid tried her best to prevent the tension from turning into a deep jam. Those hurt. She rested back against the wagon seat, her spear leaning casually against the crook of her elbow and chest. She could feel a small itch creep its way up her spine, but she resisted the urge to fidget.

"Well, miss." The driver-man started, breaking the sound of the steady hoof steps with his smooth voice. "What's your story?" He urged the horse onward.

"Mr. Brandan, I find it impolite for a stranger to pry into my past without first telling me his."

"Yes, I believe that to hold true," the man chuckled, scratching the bridge of his nose abashed.

He cleared his throat. "As you can see, I'm a travelling merchant, trading in quite the rare goods actually. I'm originally from the Roble Holy Kingdom, from a decent sized town full of merchants. My parents were traders too and I picked the profession from them.

"I chose the life of a traveller because I like to follow the wind. And you get better money selling exotic goods. So it's all about the money. And the adventure. And the new people I get to meet. And the stories. But mostly the money."

The coppery haired lady tilted her head at this, only briefly glancing at the man before returning her gaze to the beautiful scenery ahead of them brought to life by the dawning sun. "I see. Sounds like a dangerous job. But since your trade seems to have a decent income and the goods have demand, why don't you hire bodyguards?"

Brandan chuckled.

"Deception. If there are many guards bandits will think I'm carrying something highly precious. But if I travel alone, I get to pass mainly unnoticed or they think my wagon is unworthy of robbing. In the few cases I have been ambushed, I have begged for them to spare my life and the rest of my goods in exchange for the 'valuables'."

"Ah," the warrior exhaled. "And these 'valuables' were in fact the cheapest trinkets in the crates?"

"You catch on quickly."

The merchant stretched his hand back into the cart and pulled out what looked like a well-worn wineskin. Brandan wrenched the cork off and drunk eagerly. Belching slightly (and apologizing for it) he offered it to the spear lady.

She shook her head.

The man nodded at this and threw the skin over his shoulder recklessly. ""So, miss, your tale?"

"It's a long one."

"There's still ways until we reach our destination. We got the time."

She nodded again.

-o0o-

"What's a pretty, little lassie like ye doing alone in such a dark and scary place?" The man, over two meters tall, who towered over his comrades and the man he was threatening walked towards the angeloid and bent his upper body, dropping eye-level with the coppery haired woman.

"Want us to escort you home? Maybe hold your hand, eh? Lend a strong, sturdy shoulder, hm?"

A fit of snickers erupted from his companions.

"Leave her out of this," the slender man muttered out.

"Hm? The merchant boy trying to be a hero?" The leader barked a laughter, turning to look at the man. "Stay silent and maybe we'll let you keep the wagon and the horse. And your life."

He returned his attention to the woman. "So, what's it gonna be, flower? But just so that you know, for protection, we just have to take a fee."

She rolled her eyes under the shadow of her hood. "No, thank you. I'm fine by myself. Pardon me, sir." She said silver-tongued, sidestepped past the mercenary and started walking.

"Now now! I haven't finished talking to you!" He growled and grabbed her by the shoulder, yanking her back. Spinning her around, he pulled her against his chest and draped his strong muscular arms around and across her lower back. "It's mean to turn your back to the person talking to you. It seems we have to teach you a lesson in courtesy, missy."

The angeloid blinked slowly and sighed. Men.

-o0o-

The woman was silent, pondering the best course of action, eyes glued forward. To the man beside her though, it seemed she was only having trouble on where to start her story.

My past…? I have to lie, again. The angeloid thought, an image of the small peasant girl from yesterday flashing in her mind. It has to be something that he doesn't want to dwell into too deep, something to make him uncomfortable. Something… emotional and difficult to verify yet plausible. Something… Something…-

"Fair enough." She finally said, shifting slightly on her seat. "You trusted me with the knowledge of your past and true merchandise, so I feel obliged to even out the scales. And father always said to be kind to those being kind to you.

"This is actually my first proper day on main land. I have lived my whole life on a small island with mama and papa and auntie Mie. She wasn't my real aunt, but a friend of my mother's who lived on the main land. She came to visit every now and then and when mama and papa passed away she moved to our island and looked after me. And uh… A few days ago she… she went away too."

The woman bit her lip.

"I… took the boat she had used to visit us and came to shore. I just couldn't be there anymore. Not alone."

A cloud passed the sun, darkening the grasslands around them for a brief moment. Some bees buzzed in the red and white clovers by the road. The black horse pulling the cart swatted away a fly with its tail.

"I'm sorry for your loss." The man mumbled and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "And I'm sorry to have opened such painful wounds."

"Don't be, Mr. Brandan. That's life."

The man furrowed. "What a cynical opinion." Then his face lit up. "Yet optimistic."

The angel-in-hiding gave a small smile to the comment, eyes shining. The two travelled in silence for only a few moments, before Mr. Brandan broke it again, face turning grim as his eyes skimmed the roadsides ahead of them.

"We should be on our guard. Even though it's breaking daytime, this part of the road is still dangerous."

"Are you saying there are more people like those from the forest here?" There was great puzzlement in the woman's voice. In the distance, cliffs rose against the steady scenery, contrasting the smoothness with their jagged form.

The merchant gave her an apologizing small smile and breathed out a weak laughter: "I can see that it's your first time in the real, wide world."

-o0o-

The tall bandit purred low in his chest, two of his companions taking a few steps closer. The fourth of the thugs, standing by the horse cart, placed his fingers around the handle of his sword and kept a steady gaze on the dark-haired merchant in case he got the crazy idea to scram with their unclaimed loot.

The rogue leader stroke his thumb down the side of the angeloid's cheek, brushing against a strand of loose hair as he went. "C'mon, don't be shy, doll. Show me those pretty little eyes." He grabbed her from the chin and twisted her head up.

"Please unhand me," she stated calmly, her golden eyes reflecting an unimpressed look. "Now, if you could."

"Why?" Came a crude, cold answer.

"I do not like strangers being this close to me. And you smell."

Anger flashed in the man's eyes. "Mind your tongue, BUNNY!" He growled, tightening his hold on her chin to a painful grip and stretching the angeloid's neck to an excruciating angle.

'That's it, I'm not your cuddly little hare…!' She thought and, wriggling her right arm free, punched him square in the side of his face.

A nauseating crack followed and the mercenary was sent flying at his comrades. The two were fast enough to catch him, looks shining bewilderment at how such a petite woman had sent their intimidating boss hurling like a ragdoll. One of the rogues grabbed the leader's shoulder and tried to shake him out of it. The tall man's head only lolled sluggishly back and forth blood pouring out of his nose and mouth.

Suddenly the night forest had turned eerily quiet. Quiet and cold.

"He… He's dead…!" The other one uttered, struggling with his words and the concept behind them. Letting go of the blood-smeared body, he stumbled backwards. "She killed him in one blow!"

"Daniels doesn't fall from a single bitch's slap!" The first one argued heatedly, trying his best to get their boss (named Daniels apparently, the angeloid noted) awake and about. "He… He can't! Dammit, get up, Dan! GET UP!"

The body remained immobile, the blood slowly turning dark and clogging onto the skin and clothes.

'Wow.' The woman blinked, first looking at the body and then glancing at her flexing fingers. 'So easily. I mean, I only slapped him gently.' Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the dark-haired merchant looking at her with a mix of shock and relief.

"Let it be, Ralph! He's dead! Face smashed in!"

The warrior angel looked back at the body and the mercenary hunched over it.

"Oh, God." The thug (Ralph?) finally let go of the still warm corpse and schlepped backwards closer to his breathing comrade with his hands and knees. "It… This can't be happening… H-how…?"

The third one, standing by the wagon, took a threatening step forward and unsheathed his sword. "Who the devil are you, lady?" He growled, weapon lifted to a battle stance. "No, what are you?"

The woman switched her gaze between the serious bandit and the two who had followed cue and drawn out their weapons.

'I need a snappy comment. Snappy comment! C'mon, think!' The coppery-bronze haired lady thought, wings shuffling restlessly in their folded position against her back. 'Scare them off. It's your only chance to get out of this without further fighting.'

"Your doom." The merchant, having been quiet for a long while, said suddenly and sharply. All eyes turned to him.

The woman tilted her head minutely, blinking. 'A bit cliché, but does the trick,' she noted with a light scorn on her face, 'well, hopefully.'

The three thugs exchanged looks, Ralph's sword hand shaking visibly. The level-headed one of the remaining group gritted his teeth, eyes skimming between the dark woods behind them and the innocent-looking girl, perplexed that she hadn't drawn out her spear yet. On the other hand, she had killed a full-grown man with a single punch.

"Retreat, now." He finally barked.

"Go ahead, I won't give chase." The angeloid hummed casually crossing her arms against her chest.

The serious, step-in-leader sent her a murderous glare. "This isn't the end. You'll pay." They dashed into the woods and vanished.

-o0o-

A few trees shadowed the dirt road. Both of them were alert and studied their surroundings in great detail. Yet the heightened danger didn't silence Brandan the Trader.

"So, you spent your entire life on that small island?" He asked casually, clearing his throat a bit in mid-sentence.

"Yes."

"Then how did you learn to fight?" Clearly the question had bothered the merchant for some time.

The angeloid looked at the man as if the answer was as clear as the day around them. "My father taught me."

"But, I thought you said he died when you were young… I mean you're so good. How old were you when…?"

"Father put a stick sword in my hand as soon as I learned to walk." Her voice rang with proudness.

"I… see. And what did your mother think of that?"

She gave him a slightly puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Nevermind." Brandan waved his hand. It would be better to not trouble the naïve spear lady next to him. "So that spear. Family heirloom?"

A simple nod was the answer he was given. They continued their travel, a slightly forced silence hanging in the air between them. Suddenly the angeloid turned to face the man, scowling and mouth a thin line. Brandan arched an eyebrow at the woman's sudden change and waited for her to state her mind. The coppery-haired lady opened her mouth.

"How did you know I can fight?"

The merchant blinked slowly. He probably felt close to the same way the lady had felt only moments earlier regarding the question voiced. It was only now that her naivety really sank in. Before she had just seemed to be an untactful, cynical and reclusive spear-wielder. Yet, the truth was quite the opposite. Brandan wasn't normally the kind to exploit gullibility, but the woman sitting on the cart next to him was making breaking that norm almost too easy. Easy and tempting.

He chuckled. "I kinda figured it out when you sent that trash flying like a sack of potatoes."

The woman tilted her head questioningly.

"That bandit. When you punched him." Brandan explained. "And, of course, the spear helped too."

"Ah."

She seemed content of the newly-found enlightenment, until another shadow fell on her face. Brandan looked at her worried.

"What's wrong?" He was ready to halt the wagon and be of any assistance to his saviour as he could. It was curious, since he wasn't usually so easily and quickly won over. Perhaps the woman's simple naivety had struck a chord deep within him. A grim, concerned look plastered itself on his face as he watched the woman intently.

"Aren't potato sacks heavy?" She finally voiced.

Laughter erupted from Brandan's chest. He wheezily gasped for air and felt tears break from the corners of his eyes and slide down his cheeks. Yes, highly gullible. But he couldn't hold it against her.

The terrain around them was slowly changing, a change they had already seen from afar, and high rocky cliffs rose to reach for the skies. The road began to lead them into a deep narrow gorge that wormed its way between the rocks. Brandan checked that none of the jutting rocks went far enough to claw at the wagon's sides.

"This is the only way through?" The angeloid asked concerned.

"Yes."

It was suddenly much gloomier; the sunlight didn't quite make it to the bottom of the gorge, leaving them in creeping, slow shadows.

The soft scraping sound from above was the only warning they got. The angeloid cursed herself immediately for not noticing them earlier. Masked, armed men jumped down from the shadowed ledges of the gorge and landed in front of them; some cutting the road ahead, some blocking their path back.

The woman moved swiftly, as quickly as a spring breeze one could say, unsheathing her spear with a single fluid movement, whirling it around so the head was steadily aimed towards the men in front of her. Brandan's horse stopped with a distressed splutter, throwing its head back in surprise and pulling at the reins. The merchant struggled to calm it down.

The angel hopped to the ground and turned so that her back was against the side of the cart. She threw a glance at the bandits behind the wagon, their eyes glinting greedily. Then she returned her gaze back ahead where one of the men had just stepped forward, and the angeloid didn't need more proof than one look to know this man was the leader of the punch.

"Good morning!" the man wished them pleasantly, flashing a wide smile, hand going to the edge of his hat. "My my, you have chosen a tricky, dangerous road. An unwise choice, I'm afraid. Anything could be lurking in these corners."

Some of the men chuckled at the thinly veiled taunt. How unoriginal. The angeloid resisted the urge to roll her eyes and kept the spear at level and steady.

But the situation was not to be taken lightly. There were many of them – nine, she counted quickly, five in the front and four in the back – and they were all armed with various weapons. None of them were drawn yet, she noted, though there were many stilled, hungry movements that told of the energy bubbling just beneath the surface of the skin, tickling their muscles.

The bandit leader rested a gloved hand on his sheathed broadsword. The angeloid could see some jewels glittering on the hilt in the dim light of the gorge.

"What do you want?" Brandan asked tightly. The merchant was gripping the handle of his sword, his shoulders tense and lips pressed into a thin nervous line. Apparently, clearly, fighting wasn't his forte.

"Just taking a look," the leader said calmingly, eyes drawn to the wagon for a moment. "You are a trader, no? We'd really appreciate the chance to browse through your merchandise. You see, we can't just walk to town if you catch my drift."

The angeloid narrowed her eyes, adjusting her grip on her spear. So far the cocky man seemed to be ignoring her. She did not like that. What was he planning?

Brandan snorted, voice shaking. "I don't think you intend to leave us much choice."

The mercenary shrugged. "What can I say? It is so hard to find proper goods here in the wild." He turned his head and finally looked at the angel, or more accurately, at the spear held in her hands. "Though, I think," he drawled on, "I've seen you traverse this path before."

"I do some business in the capital, yes." The trader agreed, his emphasis on the word business.

The leader snorted amused. "Well, our occupation puts us in the position to do business here. Speaking of which; that spear," he nodded towards the weapon in the woman's hands," it is well made. It ought to fetch a nice price. Hand it over and we'll bargain to leave the wagon alone."

I don't like these numbers. The warrior angel thought, wincing inwardly. If I only knew more about the strength differences. That punch in the forest could've been just a lucky one.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Brandan cut her off: "She won't. You can't. No. Not for me. That spear, it belongs to your family."

Well, not really, she thought to herself. But if that solves it…

"Do you promise?" She finally said. The mercenary leader tilted his head. "Do you promise that you and your men leave Mr. Brandan, his wagon and me in peace if I give you my weapon?"

A lopsided grin formed on the bandit's scarred face. "Yes, yes, I promise."

"But Boss! You can't…! She's the one who killed Dan!" One of the men piped in.

Then angeloid looked at the thug in question. A familiar face. Ralph, was it? So he was the reason of this ambush. She wondered and narrowed her eyes. Making a quick glance of the rest of the men he recognized the other two from the previous night as well.

"Be silent or I'll kill you." The bandit leader growled, grasping his sheathed blade threateningly before returning his attention to the warrior lady. "Well, miss? What's it gonna be?"

It wouldn't be wise to give up their main protection. But to take them all on would be plain foolish. Decisions, decisions. "Very well then," she finally said and dropped her stance slowly, presenting the so-called heirloom to the head thug.

"Clever choice." The man swirled the weapon in his hands and examined the minute details of it. The engraved feathers and thin, tastefully added silver and gold garnish and the plain sharpness and lightness of the spear. "Yes, this will do just nicely."

"Then leave."

The head mercenary didn't even glance at the trader, but whistled and motioned his head in sign of withdrawal. The bandits disappeared one by one, as quickly and silently as they had dropped down, in the end leaving their boss standing alone in the middle of the path.

"It was nice doing business with y'all," he chuckled, hand going to the rim of his hat once more, before he too, vanished into the small cracks of the gorge around them.

Brandan let out a shaky breath as his legs gave out, his body slumping to the wagon seat. "Thank you. I'm in your debt, for the second time." His gaze lowered. "I'm sorry about your family heirloom, it must've been important to you."

The woman climbed back onto the cart and sat down as well.

"Fret not over it, Mr. Brandan," she stated sighing. "Let us just get to the safety of the capital."

The merchant gave an apologizing, weak smile and clicked his tongue to urge the horse onward once more. The angeloid turned her gaze to the road as well, exhaling silently and mentally scolding herself. She should have been more vigilant, more alert. And she should've figured out the strength differences the first moment she got.

My own fault. The angeloid thought remorsefully. But I liked that spear...! It took me weeks to collect the materials and to forge it…!

The woman gritted her teeth. MEN!

Revenge would be sweet, she knew it would.

-o0o-

In the forest, the sounds of the night started to echo again.

The angeloid dropped to one knee and inspected the now-late Daniels. Her so-called slap-punch had done quite horrid damage. Rummaging quickly through the man's pockets she deemed there was nothing of use there. Half rolling, half dragging the body away from the centre of the road, she unceremoniously kicked the body into the ditch, covering it with a few loose branches and fallen leaves.

Straightening up she turned and, to her surprise, noticed the dark-haired man standing by his wagon waiting.

"Thank you, miss," he said when the woman was closer, "for saving me."

"You're welcome, sir."

"May I inquire your name, miss?" The merchant flashed a gentle smile.

"It's –" She paused. I shouldn't give him my real name, she thought, for safety's sake. "It's Ava." She said, scratching her slightly itching back.

"Well, miss Ava. You can call me Brandan. May I offer you a job?"

Reviews are highly appreciated! Tell me if there are any mistakes and I'll fix them.